it’s five minute friday time, and I am tired. It’s been a week. Tomorrow’s Friday which means it’s my sabbath and I am going to ENJOY it cause I have a bajillion school related things to do this weekend. Womp womp.
The word this week:
Last night I had a full-blown panic attack- the first major one I’ve had in over a month. I came home from my mission trip meeting around 11, and as soon as I walked into my dorm room, something shifted. And my brain went into overdrive.
I did the typical things I do mid-panic attack (walked 3 laps around a wet and cold campus primarily), but was still shaky going to bed. This morning I woke up sore and achy– the mind-body connection thing is strong, y’all.
But the morning offered me a hope that going to sleep shaky in the darkness couldn’t: that I was okay. And that it was a new day, free from whatever anxiety held over me the night before.
Ever since my anxiety hit, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with nighttime– I’m scared of the darkness, and yet it’s when I’m most awake.(I legit have a draft of a post on this very topic I just haven’t finished writing. Someday.) I want to sleep, but it’s when I come alive– and when my anxiety scares me the most. It’s a weird paradox.
And yet, morning is what I really love. The first few months of my mental hell crazy, I yearned powerfully for mornings– and moreso for me to wake up in the mornings. Because mornings were hope. Mornings meant the darkness hadn’t won.
Mornings meant I had another day to live.
The darkness lasts through the night, but the joy comes with the morning– and it doesn’t leave me in my darkness afraid.
Technically I’m done with a few seconds to spare, but one quick addition: I’m in the middle of Annie F. Downs’ new book, Looking for Lovely (I’m on her launch team, praises), and lordy, it’s already broken me open in more ways than I can express. I can’t go into too much detail here about the book just yet (it releases in April then I can talk all i wanna about it!), but there’s a whole chapter called Sunrise so I thought it’d be appropriate to end with:
“Maybe I find so much breathtaking beauty in the sunrise not so much because of what it is starting but more because of what it signals has ended.”
The dark has ended. Light has come.
His mercies are new every morning, guys. And they chase the darkness away. Both in my head and my heart.